


Buttercup

by ScarletGunnerPuppy



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: AU, Black Badge Division, F/F, Gore, Horror, It will only get worse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, mentions of kidnapping and torture, science meets the supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-11-30 00:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11452479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletGunnerPuppy/pseuds/ScarletGunnerPuppy
Summary: Waverly needed an escape from her life, things were moving too fast, and her Uncle Curtis passing away hit her hard.  Nicole just wanted to get out, away from an absolutely hellacious rookie year. She needed time to think over if she even wanted to return to service at all, and to dodge all the concerned faces prompting her to get help. Neither of them were prepared for the absolute insanity that stalked the vulnerable from the shadows of the mountain forests.





	1. Prion Contact Made

A foul smell, carried on the breeze, interrupted Nicole’s morning hike. Usually she wouldn't think much of it, carrion not an impossible discovery in the dense Appalachian forests, home to healthy populations of deer, coyotes, foxes, and a wide array of other wildlife. Species interactions were all a part of the circle of life and ecology whatnot. But today, something incredibly terrible and unsettling stirred in her chest when she caught wind of the awful stench. It seemed to go beyond rotting flesh, into some terrible realm of gut wrenching wrong that escaped words. Not good.  

“Shit,” Nicole choked nearly floored by the stench as she continued downwind to investigate, uncertain of what she could possibly find. 

A few paces off the trail, and around a few large, mossy boulders, lay the source of the inconceivable stank.

Speechless, Nicole found herself unable to do anything but raise her hands to her mouth in absolute horror. The carcass before her was something out of the sickest night terror imaginable.  _ Take a break in the country,  _ they said.  _ It'll be so relaxing,  _ they said.  _ What could go wrong,  _ they said.

Nicole was now sure that the answer was  _ everything. _

The cold, dead eyes of a tawny doe stared back at her. Her insides had been wrapped around her like garland, stomach and intestines split releasing bile and partially digested plant material. In her abdominal cavity, where her organs should be, was  (presumably) her fawn, which appeared to be turned nearly inside out. An unnaturally black substance dripped from lacerations in the carcasses, the investigator in Nicole noted that they appeared to be bite wounds. The disaster looked like a crime scene straight out of hell. Something intelligent did this. There was no way this was the work of a simple animal. So much for a quiet chance to recover in Purgatory, Pennsylvania. 

A snarling from the undergrowth confirmed this suspicion. Before she could manage a sound, something large and powerful slammed into her chest, bringing her down. The world sank into a haze of darkness as something tore at her hip. The first time teeth broke flesh she figured she was a gonner, something entering her bloodstream washed over her with a wave of numb detachment before breaking out in searing agony like a wildfire.

As sudden as it had descended upon her, it withdrew into the forest with what Nicole swore was a cackle, not that her sanity in its addled state could be trusted. She felt like her blood was gasoline ignited by a cruel arsonist. Desperate screams of agony filled the forest, she was almost certain that they were her own. There wasn't a question of whether or not help was coming. In this country, Bigfoot would be her best hope.

 

* * *

 

 

Morning sun cut through the window into Waverly’s just-opened eyes like daggers. The sleepy girl snuggled into her four blankets, the fifth having been kicked to the floor, with a cranky grunt of disapproval. Usually, she was up with the sun, but today she was feeling the effects of indulging her sister in a game of poker the night prior. The sister whose snoring, from the couch of her small cabin, had cut into her attempt to sleep off the awful hangover she had been afflicted with. Nauseated and battling a headache, she found herself grateful (if only slightly) that her sister hadn't dragged along her mountain man, Doc, to join in the shenanigans. Poker with Wynonna meant a respectable amount of drinking, at least two too many beers past her limit. Poker with Wynonna  _ and  _ Doc meant straight shots of tequila and/or bourbon and  _ certain _ hell to pay.    

A commotion jolted Waverly from her consideration of morning regrets. Some unearthly, terrible shrieking broke the morning serenity. She bolted to the window, throwing off her covers and ignoring the throb of her headache. She pressed her face to the it and held her breath to avoid fogging up the glass. The bloodcurdling wailing continued as her eyes frantically sought out the source. An ornery crow perched on the fence at the end of the gravel drive.

“Pesky motherfucker,” Waverly cursed as she pried open the window, “hey! Finn, shut the fuck up! It's too early for your bullshit, and I'm too hungover!”

The crow squawked defiantly before hopping down the fence and shrieking again, beady, obsidian eyes locked on Waverly. Her returning glare was enough to get them moving. They recklessly flapped over to the feeder Waverly had set out in the yard, disturbing the chickadees that had been enjoying the stillness of the morning. Waverly rolled her eyes at the dramatic asshole and cranked the window shut in annoyance (all the while trying to ignore the fact that the crow almost certainly had to have heard that horrendous wail somewhere to have reproduced something so specific and heartrending) and moved to turn on the coffee machine. Already this was shaping up to be a long day

* * *

 

 

Famished, she was so famished. Nicole’s eyes snapped open. She couldn't move, all that she experienced was empty delirium. Her stomach growled without relent and she couldn't help but whine pitifully and curl in on herself tucking her nose into her shredded clothing and under her tail... Tail?! 

Before she could question anything, the hunger cut into her sentience and a haze crept into her vision. She began involuntarily thrashing, fangs and claws tearing at her own fur and skin. Rolling about, she lapped up her own blood before passing out again...

**...................**

Coughing and sputtering uncontrollably, she awoke in a puddle of bloody fur and flesh. Her hip screamed at her, her mind blank but for her hunger. She  _ needed  _ to eat. Suddenly she found herself cramming sour shreds of pelt and torn skin into her mouth, swallowing mouthful after mouthful with little chewing.  _ Not good enough.  _ She raised her eyes from her own mess and they fell upon the mutilated deer. She was upon them in seconds, the vile rot sweet on her tongue. She mouthed at the edges of the doe’s gut, savoring the viscous black liquid, drooling in her indulgence, her saliva pooling in the cavity working to dissolve the legs of the fawn. The sane part of her brain dormant, if it had survived. 

A fiend’s grin glistened from the underbrush a few paces away as she continued to devour the two carcasses down to the bone. Frustrated, she licked the skeletons clean before snapping the bones to suck out the marrow, draining every last drop. Still desperate for more, she dragged her aching body away from the bones, yowling in agony as she went. Finally she collapsed and lost consciousness on the trail from which she had came. Her raw flesh began to knit itself back together, flawlessly, save for the mauling of her hip that remained a fresh, bloody disaster.

**...................**

“Oh, my god!” the shrill cry disrupted the edges of the blackness. “Hey, hey? Are you alright? Can you hear me? Come on! Please, I need you to respond!”

“Whaaa-" Nicole managed to croak despite her bone dry throat. Cool, gentle hands descended upon her face, likely checking for breathing and a pulse. An attempt to open her eyes proved punishing for Nicole so she kept them tightly shut and groaned in pain. The hands were not rough but her skin was raw.

“I need you to stay with me. I-I’ll be right back. I can't carry you to safety when you're like this. I'm really sorry, just please please don't die on me,” the voice urged, anxiety setting Nicole’s hair on end. She tried to grunt an affirmative, which must have been good enough because she heard the person’s hasty retreat and did her best not to sob pitifully abandonment. She tried her best to remind herself that it was temporary, and that apparently help was on the way. 

Ridiculously enough, her body found this an appropriate time for her stomach to rumble with hunger. Nicole tried to focus on her recent memory, but drawing up mostly blanks, she gave into the urge to rest her mind.

...................

Thick rope bit into Nicole’s wrists and she realized she was bound to a hard, wooden chair.

“No!” she wailed in anguish. “You can't do this again, you can’t!”

She thrashed and shrieked, wrists burning as the rope tore into them. Her hip was on fire and weeping blood and pus, black ooze dribbled onto the floor burning holes into the rug. An array of torture devices, scalpels,  kitchen knives, and tools was laid out on a tray table just out of let’s reach, not that her legs were free. They still appeared untouched, but something had to have been used to tear at her hip. She couldn't remember, the shadows of her mind were merging with reality. Dazed, she stilled and stared blankly at the door.

Not long after, the handle turned, and the door opened.

“Ah, finally, my dear,” giggled a hungry looking man, “I thought you’d never settle.” Nicole fought back a groan of terror, refusing to give him the pleasure.

“Ah, ah,” he chided, picking up a power drill and turning it on. The sound of the drill engulfed Nicole with a wave of terror and her vision went red. Somehow, she was out of the chair and on him in seconds tearing out his throat with her teeth, the drill lodged in her right thigh, tearing. She shredded and tore and beat down on him with her clawed fists until the whole room ran red with visceral fluids.

Suddenly, she stopped and looked up, horrified with her actions. A mirror, that had not been there before say in front of her, she stared right into the eyes of a scraggly canine monstrosity, fangs dripping with blood and black ooze. She leapt back and screamed, eyes then drawn to a malicious glare from the shadows of the forest underbrush. A cackling echoed in her ears as she screamed until she couldn't even rattle out a wheeze.

 

* * *

 

 

Waverly sprinted down the path as fast as her feet would carry her, thankful she had chosen today to drive the small maintenance vehicle with the truck bed rather than a quad or bike out for routine trail maintenance, something she continued voluntarily in her uncle’s stead. By some divine grace she had chosen today to take up the machete and cut back the vegetation or perhaps that poor, beautiful girl would have been left there to die without a hope. 

Upon reaching the pull-off by the road, she leapt into the cab of her little all-terrain vehicle and started it up, and set off back down the trail to where the injured woman lay, probably bleeding out.

Waverly could hear the screams of agony before the wounded hiker lay in sight. She slammed on the brakes, threw the vehicle in park and flew out the door, grabbing a blanket from the passenger seat. As she came around back of the little truck bed, she dropped the door before going to kneel down by the hiker. Under closer inspection, Waverly saw that the bleeding wasn’t nearly as bad as she had thought, but the wound looked nasty. The woman’s clothes were shredded and hanging off of her, saturated in blood and dirt and a foul smelling dark liquid that appeared to be fraying the fibers.

“Hey, hey I'm back,” Waverly spoke softly.

“What's, what's going on?” she managed hoarsely.

“You’re gonna be ok, just let me get you somewhere safe,”  Waverly said, not knowing if she really had a shot in hell at saving this woman’s life.  _ Now or never  _ Waverly figured in a moment of plucky determination, slid the blanket under the girl’s fairly limp body and began to lift. Either the woman weighed a lot less than Waverly would’ve thought for her considerable height, or the adrenaline was really giving her a boost because she managed, if only  _ just _ , to get back to the vehicle and heave her up into the bed (though not without much effortful grunting and agonized screaming and whimpering on the hiker’s part, but dammit she wasn’t going to quit on her if it killed her). 

“Alright, alright,” Waverly said, mostly to herself. She used the belts she would use to secure a non-human, not-bleeding-out-in-the-back-of-her-utility-vehicle load to the bed in a normal situation and tried not to vomit into the undergrowth creeping  in on the trail as she made her way back to the cab of the vehicle. “Let’s hope that Wynonna isn’t home.”

Waverly was on the twisting mountain road in minutes, every fiber of her being willing the woman in the back of her truck to hold on the fifteen minutes it would take to get her back to her cabin and the nearest working phone.

  
  
  


 


	2. Incubation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waverly rushes to the aid of the mysterious woman, and things are simultaneously more and less dire than she initially thought. Something just doesn't sit right with her.  
> Nicole is confused and hungry, but mostly hungry.

 

The open air ride down the windy, forest-shrouded roads kept Nicole awake and alert, not that she wanted to be. It was ridiculously difficult to follow what was happening, and her brain really just wanted it all to stop... and for her to devour a nice, juicy cheese burger... or five. She was beginning to wonder if she had hit her head and damaged her brain. Shouldn’t she be more concerned about the festering gash in her hip?

Nonsense aside, putting together the events that lead up to the present felt a bit like trying to do a jigsaw missing at least half of its pieces. It just wasn’t happening. She knew she had been out on a morning hike, something that was becoming routine. After parking and checking all her gear, well aware that the odds of encountering another person, especially in late September (past the prime of the summer), were slim. Past starting out on the trail, she’s got nothing. Her throat is dry, her mouth tastes like blood and death, she positively reeks, and her hip looks like it’s been used as a chew toy by a pissy hell hound. 

As awareness of her surroundings returned to Nicole, she became more and more distressed about her situation. Being lashed to the bed of a truck was causing her anxiety to spike, confinement not agreeing with her at all. Struggling would certainly result in more damage, and she knew that in her current state things were dire so Nicole tries to focus all of her energy in remaining still and calm. Not that calm was really an option for her right now. She tried to reason with herself that hyperventilating would just make everything feel worse, but her lungs didn't seem interested in what her brain had to offer. Nicole’s chest heaved with dry sobs and uncontrollable gasps by the time the truck came to an abrupt halt, and she could barely hear the door open over the thundering of her heart in her ears.

“Woah, woah,” the voice from before, a woman with resolve burning in her eyes uttered. She evaluated Nicole’s panicked behavior, gaze sharp and searching.

“Please, please untie me,” Nicole gasped. As soon as the woman released the restraints, Nicole bolted upright.  A bad move, she discovered with a hiss of pain. 

“Okay, right. Please take it easy,” said the strange woman. “My name is Waverly Earp, I need to go call you an ambulance, but I'm worried you're in shock, and now I'm just narrating all of this because I don't have a clue how to handle this, and-" the girl spoke quickly before being interrupted.

“No,” growled Nicole.

“Uh, what?” questioned Waverly.

“You can't let them take me to the hospital,” she urged. “Please, you don't understand. Anything else, but I'll be ok. I just need to clean it. It looks worse than it is. Really, please don't.”

“That's absurd, you're clearly in desperate need of medical help!” she protested.

“I,” Nicole began before shakily standing and leaping down from the truck bed, “am fine,” she managed to grit out between clenched teeth. After a moment of steadying herself against the truck she limped forward towards Waverly.

“Please, I'm just so hungry,” Nicole nearly begged. Her ribs stood out under gaping holes in her shirt.

“You can't be serious, you look like you're about to keel over,” Waverly said, tone cautious and a bit dumbfounded.

“I need to eat  _ now _ ,” Nicole said firmly, something dangerous flashing in her eyes. 

“I just found you unconscious in the middle of the woods, you’re clearly severely injured, and you’re asking me to bypass calling 911 and just feed you?” she asked sharply.

“I have no idea what’s happened to me, but all I know is that I need to eat something right now, or I am going to lose my shit,” Nicole replied, eyes pleading. 

“You need medical attention, and actual clothes, and probably at least forty-eight hours of rest,” Waverly began, but was cut off again.

“Waverly, please,” Nicole pleaded.

“Okay, okay there’s taco casserole in the fridge,” she said, leading Nicole into her house. She went from the entryway to the kitchen, immediately grabbed the casserole dish from the fridge, and a serving spoon from a drawer. “I’ll just heat some up for you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Nicole as she took the dish from Waverly’s hands and began devouring it with her hands. Halfway through, she glanced up at Waverly, eyes glowing unnaturally and managed to look at least a little sheepish.

“I’m sorry, I’m not sure what’s got into me,” Nicole said and awkwardly laughed, sauce staining her chin.

“Oh, no, um. It’s okay, really,” said Waverly taken aback by the awkward nature of the sight, the woman's beautiful features were slathered in mess and she just stared back, doe-like, at Waverly. “I’m just glad you aren’t dead.”

“Well, yeah,” Nicole snorted between mouthfuls, “me too.”

“Exactly how long were you, um, incapacitated?” Waverly asked while waving her hands around a bit for lack of ability to smoothly approach the topic. 

“No idea,” Nicole said. Her eyes fell to the floor for a moment, but she quickly resumed eating. Nicole devoured the casserole at an alarming rate. She couldn’t believe it, but hardly stopped to ponder the fact that she was tearing through at least several pounds of cheese, beef, and taco toppings. Waverly seemed concerned and baffled, but said nothing as she watched the famished woman eat. The silence remained until Nicole was literally licking the pan clean.

“You’re going to the hospital.” Nicole flinched at Waverly’s determined statement. 

“No,” she growled. “You don’t understand. I can’t- I won’t go back.”

“You need medical attention,” Waverly said firmly. “You can’t just expect me to watch you go septic and die.”

“I’m not,” Nicole argued. “I’m not sure what happened, or when it happened, but I am sure that all I need is time and energy to recover. Food is energy. I’m begging you. Please, just let me eat and rest.”

“You’re crazy,” Waverly cried in exasperation. “You’re dripping blood, a-and pus, and whatever the hell else onto my floor from a gaping wound in your hip, and you’re asking me to just let it be?”

“I don’t know,” Nicole said, looking more distressed than she had when occupied with stuffing her face.

“At least let me dress your wounds, and consider changing your mind if they don’t improve.”

“Fine.”

* * *

 

Waverly was certain that she was losing her mind. She rummaged through her medicine cabinet for supplies to patch up the horrendously and definitely very seriously wounded woman, at this point collapsed on her couch, who she had hauled in from the trails. She turned off the hot water she had been running into a bucket in the bathtub with her foot as she continued her search through the cluttered cabinet for antibiotic ointment. Additionally, she was allowing her to refuse professional medical intervention... and she didn’t even know her name. Fuck. If not for the terror in the injured hiker’s eyes, she surely wouldn’t even consider relenting. The whole situation was a shit show. Waverly couldn’t believe any of it.

“Hey, um, d’you think you could bring me something for pain?” called the hiker.

“Yeah, sure,” she replied over her shoulder as she grabbed her first aid kit and the ointment, tucked a bottle of acetaminophen under her arm, and grabbed the bucket from the tub. She set everything down and opened it all up. 

“You’re running a temp,” said Waverly after running a thermometer across the hiker’s forehead.

“I usually run a few degrees warm, it’s nothing.”

“Yeah, one hundred five degrees warm?”

“Shit.”

“No, you know what? Your ass is going on an ambulance to the hospital, I don’t give a damn about that puppy-dog-eyed-pleading-bullshit look. This is beyond ridiculous, you aren’t going to die because I let you make you’re own decisions when you’re all delirious and delusional fever hazey.”

“I will sooner die than go to another hospital right now. You don’t understand,” she said.

“You better believe I do. You’re probably in near-critical condition.”

“I’m leaving,” the hiker growled dismissively and scrambled to get up. She was nearly out the door before Waverly caught her by the arm. Her cry of pain startled them both.

“I don’t understand,” Waverly said. “I have no idea, I don’t know you at all, I don’t even know your name, but you’re here and wounded and probably dying and very real and I can’t just do nothing.”

“I’m not asking you to do  _ nothing _ ,” she replied and raised her opposite hand to lay over Waverly’s hand that lingered on her arm. “Just trust me, and if things don’t improve and I’m crashing do what you need to. But please understand, I am begging you to let me stay here and just try first aid.”

Waverly let out a frustrated sound, something between a sigh and groan, but lead the hiker back to her couch and motioned for her to lay on the couch. She rung out the soft, white rag in the bucket and turned to tend to her wounds.

“My name is Nicole, by the way,” she said, breaking the tense silence as Waverly began to dab at her exposed wound. The blood and grime stained the cloth a dark crimson, but Nicole hardly grit her teeth as Waverly dug out pebbles, pine needles, and small clods of dirt and debris. She found herself absorbed in Waverly’s concentration and sincerity as she assessed and cleaned the wound, the set of her jaw and the furrow in her brow were beautiful in a sad, dark way. 

“Oh, wow. Yeah, thanks,” Waverly sputtered a moment later and raised her gaze to Nicole’s, comprehending the redhead’s words after a short delay. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t even gotten the other woman’s name, though it wasn’t as if they had engaged in much small talk.  She held her gaze for a moment, wondering just what it was that crackled just beneath the surface of her deep, chocolate eyes.

“I know I’m being difficult, and I sound crazy. Really I’m amazed you didn’t just dump my sorry ass off at the nearest hospital emergency room for professionals to deal with.”

“The nearest hospital is nearly an hour’s drive away- in a real car-” Waverly said as if that settled the matter, “and I’ve had significant first-aid and survival training. Really though, it’s remarkable you stopped bleeding on your own the way this wound looks. It’s almost like this black substance,” she said, eyes narrowing as she grabbed a swab from her supplies and began to swipe at the edges of the gash, “has some kind of coagulating properties.” 

Waverly hummed thoughtfully as the viscous liquid formed a string as she tried to swab some away. She squinted and her brow creased even more as it began eating through the cotton fluff of the swab. When her gaze returned to Nicole’s, she noted that the hiker’s eyes had gone eerily dark. Her hand flashed out and closed around Waverly’s wrist, she sat up hurriedly, and she brought the swab to her face to lick it clean. Waverly felt a spike of alarm, but resigned to just watch the redhead (half afraid that interference would break the odd stillness of the moment). Something old, dark, and sick reflected in the shadows of Nicole’s eyes as she remained, eyes locked with Waverly. Without averting her gaze, Nicole released Waverly’s hand and brought her own forearm to her mouth. She bit down into the flesh of her arm breaking the skin, and Waverly couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her in a rush of fear. Blood began to trickle from the wound, unnaturally dark. It burned its way into the colorful weave of the living room carpet with a hiss. Nicole lapped at the wound, frustrated with the slow trickle of blood, eyes flashing dangerously. Waverly didn’t dare to move an inch, something about the hunger in her leer struck a chord deep in Waverly’s gut.  _ Not good. _

_ Beware the ones that hunger.  _ Curtis had always uttered a very specific warning as he concluded his evening tales when Waverly would come to visit as a child. Her uncle would sit by the fire on the rustic styled couch, Waverly beside him. Eventually she would slump over, head in his lap as he combed the knots and tangles from her hair with his fingers absentmindedly, lost in the details of the stories he spun (or she had always believed them to be stories at the time). Her aunt, Gus, would snort in disapproving annoyance from her rocking chair nearer to the window when his tales of local oddities would take a dark turn, but her eyes would flicker distrustfully to the shadows at the treeline. 

A low rumble came forth from somewhere deep in Nicole’s chest, startling Waverly. Her eyes emanated an incomprehensible darkness, and her dark blood dripped from the corner of her mouth. Waverly took a deep breath to steady herself and grabbed the rag from where she had set it down, all without breaking eye contact for even a moment. She reached forward, careful not to move suddenly, and wiped the mess from the redhead’s mouth, then moved to hold the compress to the self-inflicted wound on her arm to apply pressure. Nicole’s nose wrinkled as she contemplated Waverly’s actions for a moment, her eyes darting to follow the movement of her hand briefly before snapping back up to meet her gaze again. Distrust and paranoia stared Waverly down from the darkness lingering in the edge of Nicole’s eyes that seemed to grow darker by the moment.

“Hey, shhh,” Waverly soothed in a low, careful tone. She brought her other hand up to cradle Nicole’s jaw. The suspicion gave way to a startled misery. With a whine, Nicole pitched forward into Waverly’s shoulder and began to brokenly sob.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm actually college studenting now, my university likes to get a start on the school year fairly early. No idea what that's going to mean for the rate at which I write this. I'm hoping to kick it up a notch... but who knows. I'm still relatively shitty at coordinating writing longer works and have had a tendency to not finish shit, but I'm older and wiser and have no excuses this time. (And really no other ship has worked for me the way wayhaught does... really!) The season finale was spectacular, hope you've caught up. This is where I invite you to bug me on tumblr, either of them.  
>  scarletgunnerpuppy.tumblr.com is my main (trash heap)  
> scarletpuppywrites.tumblr.com is the blog I made for this shit show, and any other writing I decide to post.   
> There may be some of that in the future. I kinda also would like to overhaul the formatting, descriptions, summaries, and notes on this too. I probably should actively use my brain and think rather than just write these completely off the cuff, whoops.  
> Oh, I also am working on putting together a spotify playlist for this, mostly with the shit I favor when I write this. This chapter Hurricane by Fleurie was inspirational for Wave's little nostalgia episode and general unokayness, and Arsonist's Lullabye by Hozier came on right when I was working out the bit where Nicole loses her shit there for a moment and struck me as beyond perfect (though when isn't Hozier beyond perfect) for this. Just a thought.  
> Anyways, enough of my rambling. Thanks for reading, returning or new. Not sure if this will end up buried in the heap of wayhaught fic to come, though it isn't as if we have much else to do for the next year... besides living our lives. Imma pass out so my 8am doesn't slay me!  
> Fen out.

**Author's Note:**

> I've been wanting to take up writing again here for over a year, but haven't been able to bring myself back. So, finally. Here I am! I did it! And I intend to be here to stay for the foreseeable future. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, and would absolutely appreciate any constructive feedback you have to offer. I'd like to take this story to a level that I've never achieved in writing.  
> Who'd guess that a really pleasant day would have given me the motivation to write something relatively horrific, I was smiling with glee the entire time.
> 
> I'm hoping to bring you all the werewolf fic you deserve, as I haven't seen nearly enough, and I absolutely haven't seen many take the grotesque approach. I love neat, magical shapeshifting with no consequences as much as the next individual, but I wanted to tell a story where turning into a canine monster isn't all sunshine and rainbows and butterflies. Here it is!
> 
> Update: 1/15/18: University is kicking my ass, and I love it. I'm working into a rhythm and hoping that I can continue working on stuff as I have been behind the scenes lately. I'm just picking this back up out of the planning I had before. There are a lot of places I want to take this, but I'm very anxious about how I want to handle everything.   
> My inspiration last semester for my planning was in a Mechanisms of Disease class that I was taking as an intro to major. I already planned on basing a lot of this on a certain type of diseases so it was really awesome to have some in class exploration of stuff.  
>  By no means do I have the slightest idea about something that still confounds academics at the doctorate level of research and study though so a lot of creative license and distortion of the science behind things needs to go on here.  
>  I'm trying to figure things out for how they need to work for this story. 
> 
> If you're reading this and you are a tumblr person, you should totally come bug me on tumblr at scarletgunnerpuppy.tumblr.com


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